Archive of Our Own

Every time Ken Amada dropped another puppy picture into the groupchat, Akechi immediately forwarded it to Ren. Like Ren wasn’t in the chat himself. Like he hadn’t already seen them.

The problem was, he forwarded them to Ren without comment. Puppy updates meant two notifications in quick succession: Ken’s message, usually something like “Sorry, here’s another cute moment, you can tell me to stop if I’m posting too much;” followed instantly by a blank message from Akechi with the new photos attached. If Ren and Akechi were in the same room, Akechi might say something like, “Hm, Ken posted about the puppies again,” or, “They’re getting rather big now, aren’t they?”

But he never said what he wanted. So Ren always replied, “Aw, yeah,” or, “Man, they must be a handful,” or sent some cheerful emojis. And then he left it alone. Ball in Akechi’s court.

He must’ve been driving Akechi nuts.

In fact he knew he was driving Akechi nuts, because Akechi had started glaring pointedly at him after these exchanges, and glaring harder when Ren just smiled innocently. Ren didn’t say, “Why, darling, what’s the matter?” He didn’t say, “Why do you keep sending me these pictures?” He didn’t say, “Do you want a puppy, Goro?”

Because Ren knew the answer. Akechi wanted a dog. Specifically, he wanted one of these dogs, the seventh generation of Koromaru descendants, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and impossibly, tooth-achingly cute. Sometimes Ren wondered if it was cruel, letting Akechi twist in the wind; but Akechi had managed to tell Ren he wanted first to get married and then to have kids, both of which were much higher-stakes than this. Ren would not be goaded into asking the question. Akechi wanted a dog, and Ren wanted to give one to him. All Akechi had to do was ask.

True to form, when Akechi finally broke, he came at the subject sideways.

Sai, Morgana, and Maya were in bed. (At least, Maya was in her room; the deal was, she could stay up as long as she wanted, provided she got up promptly in the morning.) Ren and Akechi were putting away the dishes. Then Ren’s phone pinged, and Akechi’s buzzed.

Akechi took his out, looked at it, narrowed his eyes.

“All right,” he said, dropping it on the counter. “Enough.”

Ren blinked at him. “Enough what?”

Akechi crossed his arms. “Enough of you, being deliberately obtuse. Or are you truly that oblivious?”

“About what?”

“You know what,” Akechi snapped. Ren managed not to smile, but something in his expression must have given him away, because Akechi bristled. “You do know! You smug, condescending—”

“Nooo,” Ren said, tilting his head, widening his eyes. “I really don’t. What are we talking about right now?”

“I’ve been dropping hints for weeks, and you—”

“You’ve been sending me pictures for weeks,” Ren countered. “You haven’t said anything. As far as I knew, you just thought they were cute.”

“This is ridiculous. How long were you going to let me make a fool of myself?”

“As long as you wanted, I guess.”

“Ren, for god’s—”

“I wanted you to say it,” Ren said, advancing on him. “I still want to hear you say it. What’s all this about? What do you want?”

Akechi blushed, looked down at his feet.

“Goro.” Smiling, Ren leaned in, pushing their foreheads together. “Do you want a dog?”

“I’m so glad you think this is funny,” Akechi grumbled.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“It absolutely is not.”

“Hey, come on.” Ren tugged Akechi’s arms apart, clasped his hands. “I wasn’t gonna let you dangle forever. I just wanted to see how long you’d go. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Akechi ducked his head, turned his face away. “Well. First I needed to do the research. Consider all of the pros and cons—”

“Make a budget?”

“Again, as thrilled as I am to amuse you—”

“You didn’t have to do any of that. You don’t have to convince me. If you want a dog, let’s get a dog.”

“It’s not that simple,” Akechi burst out, like it hurt, like he had to force the words from his mouth. “If we do this because I want to, and it’s terrible, it’ll be my fault. You need to understand what you’re signing up for, or—”

Akechi broke off, hunched his shoulders. Ren stood up straight.

“Or what?” he said, frowning. “I’ll throw it out on the street?”

Akechi sighed through his nose. “Obviously n—”

“No,” Ren said, carefully, trying to ignore the nasty suspicion suddenly worming between his ribs. “That’s what you were afraid of. Isn’t it?”

Akechi wouldn’t look at him. “It’s a big decision,” he said, drawing back his shoulders, lifting his chin. “Dogs can be very difficult. We have to consider every angle.”

“So I don’t get sick of it and bail out halfway through,” Ren supplied. He didn’t snap. He didn’t say, What have I ever done to make you think I could be so callous? He didn’t say, Difficult? I’ve been with you for twenty years; if difficult was a problem—

Oh.

Oh, there it was.

Ren coughed a laugh, and Akechi glanced at him, half surprised, half wary.

“God,” Ren muttered, rubbing his face. “Akechi. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Slowly, Akechi lowered his hackles. “Yes. I know.”

“But you’ve been scared I would anyway.”

A long pause. Then, “Yes, I have.”

Ren sighed, and reached out, and grasped Akechi’s elbows to pull him forward into a hug. Akechi went stiffly, too startled to react until Ren kissed his cheek and rested his chin in the crook of Akechi’s neck. Then, sighing too, Akechi hugged Ren back.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said. “I thought this was a cute and funny thing, not a big, scary thing.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Akechi murmured. “It’s only a dog.”

Ren decided to forgo the customary argument about should and shouldn’t. Instead he said, “All right. Tell me the pros and cons.”

Akechi took a deep, steadying breath. “Well. As I said, adopting a dog is a serious decision. Especially a puppy. We’d have to spend time on housetraining, training in general, veterinary visits, and so on. Not to mention the financial cost. Even if Ken gives us a puppy for free—which he shouldn’t, we should at least compensate him for his own expenses—it’s a significant investment.”

“Which you’ve budgeted, in detail,” Ren said. Akechi’s skin warmed against his, so he added, “It’s expensive and it’s hard work. Got it.”

“Puppies get into everything,” Akechi said. “We’d have to adjust the way we live our lives, not only to care for it, but also to make sure it couldn’t eat our shoes or Sai’s toys or Maya’s books.”

“Oh, now, that’s a dealbreaker. I demand the right to leave my shoes everywhere.” Akechi actually tensed, and Ren laughed. “Okay, wow, sorry, Jokes has officially left the room. What about the pros?”

Akechi didn’t answer for a minute. Ren had a feeling he was trying not to say, I just really want one. Obviously he didn’t consider that a good enough reason, even if Ren did.

“It would make Maya and Sai very happy.”

Sure, project your feelings onto your kids, you coward. “Uh-huh.”

“And they could learn a lot from the experience. Maya in particular is old enough to help take care of it. She’d appreciate the added responsibility; you know she’s always looking for more to do around the house.”

Because, even at thirteen, she wanted to be a tiny adult. Ren smiled. “I know.”

“The timing is all but perfect. Maya and Sai would be on summer break by the time the puppy could come home, and I’d already planned to be here to keep an eye on them.”

Ren’s smile widened. “That is perfect.”

“Plus, once they go back to school, the dog should be old enough to wait at least a few hours before using the bathroom. I can run home and let him out at lunchtime.”

“I could, too. Or we could ask Sojiro.” Ren was positively beaming now. “Can you imagine? He’ll be happier with a puppy than he’s been with grandkids. Uh, sorta-grandkids.”

“I’ve already spoken to Morgana—”

“Oh have you?”

“—and he’s consented, provided he can help choose the candidate. As long as it’s one of Koromaru’s descendants, he says he’ll allow it.”

“Phew,” Ren said. “Bullet dodged.”

“As for the cost—” Akechi paused. “You were joking about the budget, but—”

“Of course you made a budget,” Ren said, heart compressing. “With spreadsheets and everything. God, I love you so much.”

Akechi coughed. “It’s well within our means. I can show you—”

“You factored in toys and treats, right? She’s got to have toys and treats.”

“Naturally,” Akechi scoffed. “Enrichment is very important. I also estimated the costs of shots, deworming, neutering or spay—there’s actually a nice veterinary office not far from here; they were kind enough to enumerate their fees for me—and then food and supplies, as well—we should crate train him, I think, that seems to be the best method—”

Looping his arms around Akechi’s neck, Ren rocked back on his heels and beamed.

“Are you calling Ken,” he said, “or should I?”

***

Nanako and Ken lived, as far as Akechi was concerned, in the middle of nowhere. They had one neighbor, plainly visible and within twenty minutes’ walking distance. But the nearest true bastion of civilization, Inagawa, was twenty minutes away (by ambling car, because the speed limit was Way Too Slow), and even that was a small town. It reminded Akechi strongly of Inaba, but when he’d said so to Ren, Ren had given him a strange look.

“It’s completely different,” Ren had said.

Akechi, who had spent all his life in cities of various sizes, privately stuck to his guns on this. Every inch of the Japanese countryside looked the same to him, give or take the occasional mountain. If he had the choice, he’d never have to learn any different.

Still: he was glad that Ken and Nanako had managed to thread the needle. Nanako got to live in, or at least near, a carbon copy of her hometown, and Ken only had to drive an hour each way when Mitsuru needed him on Tatsumi Port Island. Or, in today’s case, when he had to pick up guests from Iwatodai Station.

Ken was waiting for them on the platform, hands in his pockets, smiling. Akechi was struck all over again by how much looking at him was like looking in a mirror. Their eyes were different, of course, and Ken’s face was perhaps slightly narrower, his bangs consistently swept to one side rather than allowed to drape across his forehead; but apart from that, they might have been twins. Akechi had never stopped being vaguely unnerved by this.

“Hey!” Ken said. “How was the trip?”

“Freedom!” Morgana gasped, bursting out of Ren’s bag. “That took forever!”

“We’ve had longer trips before,” Ren said, jostling him.

Morgana squawked. “Quit shaking me!”

“Despite appearances, the trip was fine,” Akechi said. “How are you?”

“Good, I’m good. So!” Ken put his hands on his hips and turned to the girls, Maya fidgeting, Sai bouncing up and down. “Are you guys ready to meet the puppies?”

“Yeah!” Sai exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Maya said, quieter.

“They’re excited to meet you, too. C’mon. Let’s head out to the car.”

Akechi caught Sai’s hand before she could run on ahead—she knew she was supposed to stay close, but rarely did so willingly—and they all followed Ken across the parking lot. He drove an older sedan, nondescript and functional, with faded upholstery stained by innumerable childhood incidents and floorboards littered with plastic toys.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” Ken said, popping the trunk.

“Oh, please,” Akechi said. “If we had a car, it would be no better.”

“Hayato just upgraded to a booster seat, Sai, so you’ll get to sit up high,” Ken told her. “Have you ridden in a car before?”

“Uh-huh!” Sai said, letting Ren help her into the backseat. “Not a lot, though.”

“You probably rode in a carseat, huh?”

“Yeah.” Sai wriggled to get comfortable, patted the booster’s plastic sides while Ren buckled her in. “This is better.”

Ken smiled. “I bet.”

“You sit up front,” Akechi murmured to Ren. “I’ll take the back. Maya, are you in the middle, or by the door?”

Maya considered her options through narrowed eyes. “By the door.”

“All right.”

Akechi hefted their suitcase into the trunk, waving Ken off when he tried to help, and then climbed into the car. It smelled like old milk and French fries. He wedged himself against Sai’s booster, buckled in, and watched Maya clamber in after him until she said, “Don’t stare at me.” At this he turned straight ahead, catching Ren’s eye in the rearview and returning his smirk.

Finally everyone was settled and secure, and they were off.

Akechi could say this much for the country: it was scenic. The straight, ordered streets of the city gave way to a narrow road that undulated between towering hills lined with trees. Occasionally they passed an ancient house set deep amongst the greenery, looking for all the world like it had been there forever and would persist through the end of the earth.

(“Are these mountains?” Sai kept asking, and Akechi kept telling her no.)

Up front, Ren turned to Ken. “So I have to ask.”

Ken sighed. “You really don’t.”

“A baby and puppies? Didn’t you have enough going on?”

“The baby was planned,” Ken said, steering carefully around a pothole. “The puppies weren’t.”

The baby was Etsuko, the newest addition to the Amada-Dojima household. She'd been orphaned when she was barely a month old. By then, Ken and Nanako had been waiting more than a year to be allowed to adopt a second child, and had been astonished to receive both approval and baby in one fell swoop.

She had been more potato than person when they brought her home, and four months later was finally, objectively cute, rosy-cheeked and almost offensively photogenic. Somehow, miracle of miracles, their son Hayato was enamored of her. Having his Grampa Ryotaro around to play with him while his parents took care of the interloper probably helped.

“I still don’t know where that dog came from,” Ken added. “Koro-roku couldn’t have been outside for more than a minute, and then poof! There he was.”

“You still haven’t found him, then?” Morgana said.

“Nope. Nobody’s seen him since. Prick.”

“Hey,” Maya said, so that only Akechi could hear.

He looked around. She was staring at her lap, toying restlessly with the hem of her shirt.

“This is okay,” she mumbled, “right? Us doing this?”

“Getting a dog?”

“Yeah.”

Akechi wished he could say yes without hesitating.

Ren would have. He really, sincerely believed that Akechi was capable of anything, despite all evidence to the contrary; and when it came to things like this—things that made Akechi happy, made their daughters happy—he was all too ready to jump in with both feet. Not for him the hours spent poring over books and Yudeo videos and agonizing about this or that method or approach. Whatever Ren’s family wanted, Ren would give them, and damn the consequences.

But Akechi couldn’t live like that. Which was why Maya was asking him, and not Ren.

He started to cross his legs, realized he couldn’t without kicking Maya, and settled for clasping his hands on his knees.

“I believe so,” he said. “I’ve researched a number of training methods, so I don’t imagine we’ll have any difficulty there. And with you helping to cover the day-to-day responsibilities, none of us will be overwhelmed.”

“Reading about it isn’t the same as doing it.”

“No,” Akechi agreed. Raising children was proof enough of that. “But it’s rarely steered me wrong before.”

“What about,” Maya said, “the money?”

Akechi paused.

He and Ren had never given Maya cause to worry about money, but Akechi knew why she was asking. It was the same reason Akechi held their household to a strict budget, even though they’d been comfortable for years; the reason Ren had to warn Akechi before he did things like buy Akechi gifts, even though Ren was careful with their money too.

Namely: that after losing house and home once, you were always afraid it could happen again.

“I’ve run the numbers,” Akechi said. “We can afford it.”

“What if there’s an emergency?” Maya asked, eyeing him through a gap in her hair. “What if the puppy gets sick?”

“Even then.”

“But it could be really expensive. It might need surgery, or—”

Akechi tucked her hair behind her ear and met her gimlet gaze.

“We can afford it,” he repeated, firmly. “No matter what happens.”

He watched her search his expression; watched her fingers uncurl from where they’d been fisted in her skirt; watched the clouds disperse across her brow.

“Okay,” Maya said. “Good.”

For a second she was silent, staring at the back of Ren’s seat. Then she offered Akechi a small, secret smile.

“I’m really excited,” she whispered.

Akechi smiled back, squeezed her shoulder. “Me, too.”

“Okay, this is definitely a mountain,” said Sai.

“No, Sai,” Akechi said, turning back to her. “It still isn’t.”

***

Nanako and Ken’s house was a two-story, cream-colored affair with a gray tiled roof: very nice, and more than big enough for now-five humans plus typically-four-but-currently-seven dogs. But the real draw, Akechi very well knew, was the land surrounding the house. It was all sprawling, grassy earth and dense forest thick enough to get lost in, with a fenced-in yard for the dogs and a thriving garden and greenhouse for Nanako. She regularly grew enough food for a small army and offloaded it onto everyone else: between her, Haru, and their own garden, Ren and Akechi never wanted for produce.

The gravel drive rattled and crunched beneath the car as Ken slowed to a stop. “All right,” he said, popping the locks. “Everybody out.”

Between unbuckling Sai and restraining her long enough for Ren to reach her door, Akechi missed his chance to grab the suitcase. Ken, standing there clutching it, flashed him a triumphant look.

“I know you can handle it,” Ken said, when Akechi opened his mouth. “But you’re our guest. Let me.”

Akechi closed his mouth, and hmphed. “If you insist.”

“Pu-ppies,” Sai chanted, hopping from one foot to the other. “Pu-ppies, pu-ppies, pu-ppies—”

“Sai,” said Ren, “we should probably be quiet, all right? Etsuko-chan might be sleeping.”

“Okay,” Sai said, and then continued in a whisper: “Pu-ppies, pu-ppies, pu-ppies—”

“She’s gonna kill me,” Maya muttered, following Ken, Ren, and Sai toward the house.

Morgana wriggled around to look at her from under Ren’s elbow. “She’s just excited. You are too, right?”

Maya blushed, and ducked her head. “Well, yeah.”

Two years ago, Akechi might have given her a one-armed hug for that. But nowadays she was very prickly about hugs, so he squeezed her shoulder instead.

For all that the house was large, the genkan and the hallway beyond it were narrow. Akechi had to press himself against the wall to make room for everyone else, and he only narrowly avoided knocking heads with first Morgana and then Ren when they bent down to take off their shoes.

Ken emerged from the throng first, setting the suitcase down against the wall. Sai was next, still bouncing, followed by Akechi. Maya and Ren were still figuring themselves out when the dogs arrived.

Koro-yon nearly ran into the wall as he crashed through the baby gate and into the hallway. He was much bigger than Koromaru had been, his thick fur dark brown brindled with black. But his curly tail wagged furiously and his crimson eyes were huge as he bounded up to them, first giving Ken a cursory snuffle before moving on to Akechi, Ren, Morgana (rising onto his hind paws to reach the latter), and finally the girls, Sai giggling when he thrust his nose into her face and Maya petting him politely.

Next came Koro-go, Koro-yon’s son and almost his twin apart from his coloring, which was closer to sesame than brindle. He solemnly accepted various headpats before turning his attention to Sai, mostly because she’d thrown her arms around his neck.

Then, surprise of surprises, the new mother herself: Koro-roku. She was white-furred, curly-tailed, and half the size of her father and grandfather, nearer to what Koromaru had been. She immediately zeroed in on Ren and Akechi, red eyes blazing, and threw them each a sharp, almost warning bark.

“Tsst,” Ken said, snapping his fingers. “Stop that.”

Koro-roku circled the newcomers once, glowering out of the corner of her eye, and then darted back into the living room.

“Sorry about that,” Ken said. “She’s—”

That was when the house’s final canine resident made her appearance. Koro-san was the last of Koromaru’s descendants to share his silvery fur and purely Shiba stature, alongside the trademark curly tail and red eyes. She picked her way down the hall on spindly legs, her gaunt face set in an expression of grim determination. Once she reached Akechi, she creaked her butt down to the ground—

“Oh,” Akechi said, “you don’t have to—”

—and lifted one wizened paw with all the gravity of an aged monarch. Akechi paused, and bent, and grasped it somberly. It was cool to the touch, papery in his palm. He bowed his head, and she bowed hers, and then he straightened up.

Koro-san got to her feet, groaning a little with effort, and let Ren and Maya scratch her ears and pet her back, respectively. And when Sai crouched down, cupped Koro-san’s face in her hands, and kissed her forehead, Koro-san bore it with dignity.

“Are you done now?” Ken asked the dogs. Koro-san lifted her chin; Koro-go panted; Koro-yon windmilled his tail. “Have you said hello to everyone? Good. Let’s—”

“Containment breach!” Hayato yelled.

“Oh no,” Ken muttered.

Next moment, three fat, multicolored balls of fur zoomed into the hallway, moving surprisingly fast on their stubby legs. One of them, rust-colored and pudgy, overbalanced and sprawled onto his side, where he lay looking bewildered. Another, mostly black with tan markings on his forelegs, almost reached the guests before Koro-go intercepted him, hooking his snout beneath the puppy’s belly to fling him onto his back.

The last one, though, nearly made it. She was the same size as her brothers: nearly as long as Akechi’s forearm, her chubby belly a scant few inches off the ground, with a short, pointy tail that foretold the Koro-curl. Her fur was cream-colored with a fine layer pale brown across her back, like cinnamon dust. Scarlet eyes fixed on the door, she dodged Koro-yon’s play bow, zipped between Ren’s ankles, vaulted toward the genkan—

—and yipped when Ken caught her.

“The door’s closed, dummy,” he said, lifting her to his chest. She squirmed, huffed, hung her head. “You couldn’t have gotten out anyway.”

“Ga-ne-sha!” said Hayato, marching into the hallway. “Kai-wan!”

Ren lit up. “What did he say?”

“I left my compendium out,” Ken mumbled. “He kind of—”

“And where’s Tsukuyomi?” Hayato demanded, putting his hands on his hips. Ren shut his eyes.

“I’ve got her,” said Ken, indicating the marshmallow puppy tucked into his elbow.

“Ganesha, Kaiwan, and Tsukuyomi,” Ren said to Akechi, like he’d won the lottery.

“Yes,” said Akechi. “Hilarious.”

“Back in the box!” Hayato ordered, pointing. “Right now!”

Kaiwan, the black puppy, was too busy gnawing on Koro-go’s face to obey. Ganesha, the rust-colored one, wobbled upright and stood blinking, like he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.

“Hi, Hayato!” Sai said, bounding over. “We’re here!”

Hayato looked round, and beamed. “Hi, Sai!” And then, more shyly, over Sai’s shoulder: “Hi, Maya.”

“Hi,” Maya said.

“Hayato,” said Nanako, poking her head into the hall, “I thought you were bringing the puppies back. Hello, everyone!”

“Oh yeah!” Hayato gasped. “Sai! Get Kaiwan! I’ll get Ganesha.”

Sai didn’t need to be told twice. “Gently, Sai,” said Ren, which softened her lunge into a lurch. Koro-go moved easily aside to let her scoop Kaiwan up.

Nanako stepped back and motioned grandly for the toddlers to precede her into the living room. Then she raised her eyebrows at everybody else.

“Well?” she said. “What are we all standing here for? Come in, come in!”

Laughing, Ren led the way.

“How’s your brother?” he asked, as Nanako fell into step beside him.

Nanako smiled. “Why are you asking me? You talk to him as much as I do.”

“Now, I know that’s not true...”

The living room housed an enormous TV, a sofa, a pair of armchairs, and a chabudai pushed to one side to make space for the big plywood box in the middle of the floor. Multiple generations of puppies had been born, nursed, and weaned inside this box. It was built from well-sanded, yellowed wood, its walls lined with fabric and its bottom with newspaper. Three of its sides were knee-height, tall enough to prevent dogs and puppies alike from climbing out; the fourth was low enough to impede newborns, but not adult dogs, so various mothers could have a break once in a while.

Koro-roku was sitting in it, watching Hayato, Sai, and Ken approach. She gave each of her puppies a quick once-over as they were returned, thoroughly sniffing butts and faces. Then, apparently satisfied, she hopped out and went to lay on the couch. Ryotaro Dojima, white-haired and pouchy, was already there, and waved his greeting. Ren went to sit with him, as did Koro-yon, sprawling across Ren’s lap.

Meanwhile, Koro-san shuffled across the room to the heated dog bed in the corner. This she scratched twice, sniffed once, and curled up on, draping her tail over her nose.

Akechi leaned on the wall by the doorway, crossing arms and ankles, and Ken slumped into the armchair beside him. Groaning, Koro-go settled at Akechi’s feet.

“They’re sposed to stay in here,” Hayato informed Sai, catching Ganesha before he could once again escape from the puppy box. “But they’re getting too big.”

“I think they can come out for a minute,” Nanako said, righting the baby gate in the doorway. “That way, Maya and Sai can play with them. Maya,” she added, making Maya jump, “why don’t you grab some toys?”

Maya considered the squeakers, ropes, and stuffed animals scattered around the room. “Okay.”

“Aren’t you gonna play with them too?” Ken asked quietly.

Akechi eyed him. Ken and Nanako had always worn new parenthood well. Three months into taking care of both a newborn and a toddler, Akechi would have been a zombie; but Ken looked mostly human, if paler and more deeply lined than usual. Certainly his eyes were bright as ever, almost cutting as he met Akechi’s gaze.

“Not yet,” Akechi said. “I don’t want to influence their decision.”

“It’s your dog too.”

“I’m sure whoever they choose will be more than satisfactory.”

Ken snorted. “ ‘Satisfactory.’ You sound like Mitsuru.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Koro-go flopped onto his side with a grunt. Ken leaned down to scratch his head.

“Etsuko is sleeping, then?” Akechi added.

“Oh, yeah. Nanako texted me. She’s been out for twenty minutes.”

“It’s lucky Hayato didn’t wake her up.”

“She’s used to the noise now. Hayato, the dogs, the doorbell—she can sleep through anything.” Ken hid a yawn behind his hand. “She’s even sleeping through the night already. Uh—for a few hours at a time, anyway.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s great.”

Akechi followed Ken’s gaze around the room: to Kaiwan toddling toward the chabudai, Hayato on his heels; to Tsukuyomi lunging at the pull toy in Sai’s hand, and knocking Ganesha over in the process; to Nanako leaning in close to hear what Maya was saying. On the sofa, Dojima burst out laughing, and Ren looked pleased. Morgana, perched between them, eyed the various dogs warily, his fur a bristly ridge across his back.

“I’m glad you guys came over,” Ken said, smiling. “I hope it’s not too chaotic for you.”

“It’s certainly calmer than a reunion.”

Ken snickered. “You’re telling me. There’s so many of us now. And just think—someday the kids are gonna start bringing partners around, and then they’ll have kids…” His smile softened; his eyes went distant. “It’ll be nice.”

It would be absolute madness, but Akechi knew better than to say so. Instead he said, “So. Is the next Koromaru among this group?”

Something deep and dark and sad flickered across Ken’s face. Akechi felt a pang, but before he could apologize, Ken replied, “I don’t think so.”

“How can you tell?”

“Hmm.” Ken shifted, crossed his ankles. “It’s a gut feeling. With Koro-ichi and Koro-ni, I knew from the minute they were born. Koro-san and Koro-yon—it clicked once they opened their eyes. Koro-go and Koro-roku took longer. I almost didn’t think Koro-roku was gonna happen, actually.”

“I remember,” Akechi murmured. “There were several litters before she arrived.”

“Right. And I mean, the others are good dogs, and really smart, but these guys are...more than that. He was more than that. Not even because of Cerberus, although—” Ken coughed a laugh—“if any of them ever developed the potential, Mitsuru would be thrilled. I’d be thrilled. I…”

There it was again: the sorrow, the pain, manifest in the pinch of Ken’s eyebrows and the tightness around his mouth. He fell silent.

Lately, more and more people had been doing this to Akechi. Opening up unprompted. Making themselves vulnerable, and trusting him to know what to say. It was, Ren had told him, part of being a Wild Card. Akechi wasn’t sure how often he actually helped, but he always felt compelled to try.

“You miss him,” Akechi said.

Ken flashed him a wry smile. “Every day. Which—you know—I miss Koro-ni and Koro-ichi too. I’ll miss Koro-san, when she goes.” He looked away, toward the lady herself huddled in her bed. “I’ll miss all of them. But Koromaru…he was my first real friend. Which is a weird thing to say about a dog, I guess.”

Akechi shrugged one shoulder. “He was an exceptional animal.”

“He was my partner.” Ken’s voice caught. “There’s never really been another dog like him. I’m scared there never will be.”

Akechi took a deep breath.

“Is that,” he said, “a bad thing? If you could mass-produce him, wouldn’t that make him less unique?”

Ken frowned, and for a second Akechi thought he’d insulted him. Again the apology leapt to the tip of his tongue—

—and again Ken quashed it. “I guess so,” he said. Then, more decisively, “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

Akechi sagged with relief. Yu and Ren made this look so easy…

Maya spun around, lit from within by a towering flame.

“Okay,” she said, jaw set, eyes bright. “We know who we want.”

It was Tsukuyomi. She was sitting in Sai’s lap, tiny pink tongue curling in a huge yawn. Ren and Akechi exchanged a look, his excited, Akechi’s nervous masquerading as calm; and together they went to sit with the girls. Nanako shooed Ganesha away and rose so Ren and Akechi could scooch in close.

“Why her?” Ren asked, offering his hand to Tsukuyomi. She sniffed it, peered at him.

“Because,” said Sai.

Everyone waited, but she didn’t elaborate. Maya rolled her eyes.

“Because,” Maya said, “she’s smart. She already knows how to sit.” Akechi doubted that; probably she’d coincidentally fallen down after Maya gave the command. “And she’s really patient. She let me hold her paws and look at her teeth and roll her on her back and everything.”

“Hm,” Akechi murmured. He would have tested all of those things, too. It was what the books said to do. “She certainly doesn’t seem to mind being held.”

“Nope,” Sai said. She closed her hands around Tsukuyomi’s middle and lifted her up. The puppy stiffened, toes splaying. “You wanna hold her?”

Akechi hesitated.

Apparently reassured that Sai wouldn’t drop her, Tsukuyomi relaxed. Her tiny black nose twitched as she sniffed the air; her little ears quivered as she turned her head, considering first Maya and then Ren. Up close, her fur looked like marshmallow fluff, fine as goosedown and bunched thick around Sai’s fingers. The pads of her paws were bright pink, like her tongue and the inside of her mouth when she yawned again.

Presently she seemed to sense Akechi’s gaze, and met it. Her eyes, red as all her predecessors’, were round and soft and thoughtful, like she could see more than she let on. Like she knew something he didn’t.

She was so small.

Akechi took her, trying not to startle her, trying not to squeeze her fragile ribs. She went willingly, craning her teeny round head backward to sniff his neck, his chin, his mouth. Support her back legs with one arm, and her front legs with the other, he remembered, and adjusted his grip to gather her to his chest. She was small enough that he could have cradled her in the crook of one elbow. Small, and warm, and plush as a stuffed toy. Goosedown all the way through.

Tsukuyomi’s heart beat rapid-fire on his sternum, light as a fingertip and faster than his own, which was racing. Carefully, he dipped his nose into her fur, between her velvety ears. She smelled sweet and clean and new.

Akechi sensed movement, and then the solid line of Ren’s chest against his side, Ren’s chin on his shoulder.

“She’s sweet,” Ren said, scratching her ear, grinning when she shook her head with a sound like wings flapping.

“She,” Akechi said, and stopped, because it had come out like a croak. Which was ridiculous. He hadn’t been this emotional when they’d first met their daughters; why should he be so choked up about a dog?

But he felt, rather than saw, Ren smile, and felt Ren’s lips brush his cheek.

“Well, Morgana?” Ren said, sitting back. “What do you think?”

The cat, still crouched on the couch, rolled backward into a shoulder stretch, then forward into a hip one. Eyes slitted, he oozed to the floor, casting a suspicious glance first left and then right. But Nanako was holding Kaiwan and Ganesha, and Hayato was sitting with Dojima, and none of the adult dogs seemed inclined to harass him, so he proceeded across the room.

Belly to the ground, ears sideways, Morgana prowled around Akechi, eyeing the puppy like he expected her to tackle him. She didn’t, but she did perk her ears and squirm, kicking at Akechi’s arms. He held fast.

Circling around in front of Akechi, Morgana propped his paws on Akechi’s knee so he could sniff Tsukuyomi’s windmilling tail.

The puppy gave a mighty wriggle that almost freed her from Akechi’s grasp. Morgana bristled. Akechi redoubled his grip, and Tsukuyomi slumped, whining.

“She just wants to smell you,” Maya said.

“Yeah,” Sai piped. “Don’t be scared.”

“You’re twice her size,” Ren pointed out.

Morgana snorted, tail lashing. “Not for long.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Akechi briskly. “Here.”

And Akechi held her out, supporting her bottom with his hand.

Morgana backpedaled, pupils flaring wide, and stood there stiff and stunned, nose twitching and sides visibly rising and falling. Tsukuyomi perked her ears, lolled out her tongue, wagged her tail so hard that it kicked up a draft against Akechi’s wrist.

Slowly, reluctantly, Morgana inched nearer. Dug his toes into the floor, craned his body forward to gingerly, delicately, tentatively touch noses. This time, Tsukuyomi seemed to realize that moving would scare him off, so she stayed perfectly still apart from the faint flickering of her nostrils.

There was a breathless pause.

Then:

“Hmph,” Morgana said, plopping down, curling his tail around his paws. Tsukuyomi’s tail started to wag again. “I guess she’s okay.”

“Is that a yes, then?” Ken asked, leaning over them with his hands on his knees.

Akechi, closing his arms once more around Tsukuyomi, couldn’t speak for the painful lump in his throat.

“It’s a yes,” said Ren, beaming. “We’ll take her.”